


He needs you

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Au where Cronus has an accident instead of Mituna, Everyone needs some stripora love, Humanstuck, M/M, midnight inspiration, very very brief mituna
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 03:12:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12202746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Some things will never be the same. But can you live without him?This is the continuation of the fanfiction He Needs You, made by serpentineAquarium. Read the original here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7616389/chapters/17336953





	He needs you

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! So I found this fic a while back and after I finally found out how to write things decently, I asked the creator serpentineAquarium if I could continue this. They agreed and now this is here. I'm just trying to drown myself in work I guess. I'll try to update this every week as I do for other multi-chapter fics I upload. Please go read the original!

Your name is Cronus Ampora, and you think you messed up. You aren’t sure in what way though. All you know is that your boyfriend, Dirk Strider, has been giving you strange looks for the past few months. You think something happened a few months ago. Something...bad. Something that makes it hard to remember things and find the right words. Something that makes you get frustrated easily and triggers meltdowns every so often. However, you aren’t sure what happened. It’s like there’s a black scribble covering that memory. You could stare at it for hours and get nothing but a mild headache, because people aren’t really meant to inspect a memory for long periods of time and do nothing else.  The only things you know is that you weren’t like this before, and it’s most likely your fault.

 

You believe you caused it because whenever you manage to remember something, if the memory is about you and Dirk, the memory and present Dirks are different from one another. The Dirk you remember smiled and joked with you often. Whenever you saw his eyes, they were filled with enjoyment. He’d ruffle your hair and punch you lightly on the arm and you’d do the same. He’d take you out on motorcycle rides and go way past the speed limit because both of you loved the rush of adrenaline flowing through your veins.  The present Dirk is nothing like that though. His smile and jokes seems to have been stomped out, and instead of enjoyment, his eyes hold something that look akin to sadness. The punches and hair ruffles and speeding motorcycle rides have long since come to a halt. Sex, booze, and all the things in between haven’t happened since the scribble memory occurred. The playful banter and roughhousing that you were accustomed to were swapped out for caution and longing looks he’d give you, but weren’t meant for  _ you _ . You think the stares were meant for whoever you were before all this happened.

 

You want to ask for things to go back to how they were, but you’re scared. Scared he’d shout that such a thing is preposterous for someone in your condition. Fearful that your uncertain voice would make him realize that whoever he’s waiting for isn’t coming back. Terrified that if he does realize that, he’d leave you.

 

And the reasons for him changing fucking  _ burns _ . It burns that he has to be cautious because most things can be enough to cause an episode. It burns that he has to do half of everything for you because you simply can’t do it anymore. It burns that you don’t even know what caused this. And it especially burns that you can’t do anything about it. You can’t act differently because your brain is so fucked up now. It’s so scrambled that the only thing you know for certain is Dirk. And yet, even though it’s so clear that he wouldn’t leave you, that he wouldn’t ever stop loving you, you still think he’ll leave you. Because who wouldn’t?  You’re a clock whose cogs have been bent far beyond repair. Who’s minute hand is missing and the second hand is delayed by half a minute.  And why should anyone bother with something that can’t be fixed? Why not just sell it or drop it off by the side of the road with a sign that says ‘ _ Free Clock _ ’ and get a newer, better one?

  
  


Your thoughts are interrupted when Dirk enters the room. He looks around for a second before his eyes land on you. He pads over to you and sits next to you, the couch groaning a bit under your combined weight. Whatever you were thinking of has been lost to the wind and you timidly snuggle up next to Dirk.  You’re ready to pull away in an instant in case he had a rough day and doesn’t want physical affection at the moment. When you don’t get a reaction, you deem it as safe to continue and lean into him a bit more, the tension in your shoulders evaporating. The two of you just stay like that for a while, only moving a few inches to get in a more comfortable position. You’re willing to bet he’s as lost in his thoughts as you are. 

 

Right now, you’re trying to figure out a way to give him a break of sorts. He stays in the basement working on his robotics late at night until the afternoon, where he then watches over you. And by ‘watching over you’, you mean hovering around you like a mother hen (or a sweet boyfriend). After a few more minutes of thinking and cuddling, an idea hits you.

 

"Dirky, can I go visit…uhm...those people...the, uhm…” You’re getting frustrated that you can’t remember their names. You try to keep yourself calm though. You don’t like it when he has to deal with your meltdowns.   He’s moved to look at you, his shades showing off your reflection. The black dye has started to leave your hair and the red that Amporas are known for is starting to show. You aren’t sure if you want to dye it again or not.

 

“Uhm...the people that like red and green?” you ask. You can’t really remember their names. You think the red one started with a K.  His eyebrows furrow in confusion before he gets a look of realization. 

“You mean Kankri and Porrim?” he asks. You only remember that one wore red sweaters and talked a lot and the other wore beautiful black dresses lined with green and had many piercings. 

 

“Are those their names?” you question.

 

“Yes, unless you’re talking about Damara and Meulin, which if that’s the case I’d advise you not to visit. Nicotine and burst eardrums are just about the last thing you need.” he explains. You think Damara’s the asian chick who seemed to constantly be smoking. You can’t remember anything about a Meulin though.

 

“The people who talk a lot and wear red sweaters and black and green dresses.” you clarify. He seems to think about your proposition before replying.

 

“I can’t see any harm in it, and I know the two of them have been the people who’re worried the most about you in your strange little friend group. I’ll walk you over there and back tomorrow. Don’t hesitate to call me if something goes awry.” You nod in response before squeezing closer to him. You bet if you were any closer, the two of you would merge into one strange being. You move your head from his chest to his lap and he starts petting your reddish-black locks. You’re overtaken by a feeling of serenity, and before you know it, you’re dozing off, his hand never leaving your hair.


End file.
